


Drabbles for In Oz Drabble Tree No One Can Hear You Scream

by levitatethis



Category: Oz (1997)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Oz Drabble Tree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-17
Updated: 2010-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-06 19:15:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levitatethis/pseuds/levitatethis





	Drabbles for In Oz Drabble Tree No One Can Hear You Scream

**Title: ** Sunny Days Are Here Again   
**Prompt:**  _Chris…Keller?_   
**Word Count:** 189   
**Characters:** Schillinger, Lopresti

“Keller...Chris...Keller?”

Lopresti smiles.

“When does he arrive?” Schillinger knows he sounds anxious, but he’s been waiting for a sign, for the other shoe to drop, telling him the pendulum is finally swinging the other way.

“Day after tomorrow.” Lopresti looks over his shoulder at the mailroom door out of habit for uninvited (and potentially problematic) eavesdroppers.

Hands on his hips, Schillinger cocks his head to the side. “Where’s he going?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

A grin works its way to Schillinger’s face. He folds his arms across his chest, feeling his commandeering genius flow through his veins. Taking a step forward and lowering his voice, he says, “Pass on a welcome home message from me. Tell him he’s in prime proximity for the ‘Keller Special.’|”

Lopresti furrows his brow and Schillinger tries not to roll his eyes in the C.O’s face, instead saying, “He’ll understand.”

When Lopresti leaves, Schillinger slowly turns around, lost in a myriad of rushing thoughts, and continues sorting the mail. An upbeat tune dances off his lips with the sound of a sharp whistle.

_Oh Sweet Pea, your ass is mine. _

 

**Title:**  Fallen   
**Prompt:**  _he’s not letting go of this_   
**Word Count:** 202   
**Characters:** Said, Beecher

He knows what they’re thinking—

The high and mighty Kareem Said plummeted to earth.

He feels their laughter, mocking the changing of the guard he had no say in. They question and ridicule with cruel delight his utter torment.

His own brothers have cast him out on the words of Hamid Khan; Iago dripping poisonous words into wilful ears.

He is...done for.

But there is one face—Beecher—that looks upon his with such affection and concern it nearly breaks his heart. He clings to it greedily and knows he is not alone in this abject darkness. Once upon a time Allah had seen fit to guide Beecher his way. Said had thought it was for Beecher’s good. Now he knows Allah was preparing him for this moment as well, granting him a confidante, gifting him with a kindred soul.

This is a test.

He is human, yes; he must never forget this lesson. And he must prove to himself (and those who turned their backs) that he is a chosen person—humbled and awed at the will of Allah’s mercy. He is not letting go of this.

Instead he is looking up at the torturous journey back to his rightful place.

 

**Title:**  Home   
**Prompt:**  _the why doesn’t matter_   
**Word Count:** 162   
**Characters:** McManus

There’s a spring in McManus’ step as he makes his way back to his home, his creation, _his_ damn baby.

He’s been away too long and it’s time to right the damage done. Everyone thought it would be so easy, after all _anyone_ can run Em City. Of course they were all wrong and although he had imagined returning at the desperate plea of Glynn grovelling on hands and knees, in the end McManus is all too happy to slip back into his kingdom.

It’s time to wipe Quearns’ slate clean, annihilate the mess created with Adebesi as his right hand man. The specifics of what orchestrated the latest switch doesn’t play on McManus’ mind. On the issue of returning to Em City, the why doesn’t matter; it’s inconsequential bullshit.

As the gate slides open and McManus crosses the threshold, he takes in a deep breath and feels his nerves flare then settle.

His first love wraps him in a warm embrace.

 

**Title:**  Consume   
**Prompt:**  _back to his place for a tumble in the sheets_   
**Word Count:** 204   
**Characters:** Ryan/Gloria

How’s that saying go – been around the block?

And the other one – never met a pussy he didn’t want to fuck?

And he did fuck a lot of them. Even Howell’s, but he’s pretty sure she worked some devil mojo to make him do it. That bitch was not fucking right in the head.

Most of his conquests weren’t particularly difficult. All were ready and willing, and just thinking about their response to him – flushed skin, deepening breaths, speeding heartbeats, peaked nipples, moans – makes him hard.

But the ache for release comes with the one can’t have, at least not yet.

Gloria – just beyond his grasp she is the brilliant light at the end of the tunnel which threatens to ensnare him. She thrums his body and mind with seismic vibrations, twists his soul, and renders him enthralled. She’s unlike the others and doesn’t deserve to be demeaned in the same breath. With her it’s not about going back to his place for a tumble in the sheets. It’s about the consuming fire of forever, the declaration of eternity, the sacrifice of bitter logic.

He’ll make her see the truth that has forced his eyes open.

They can burn together in its shattered light.

 

**Title:**  A Just Life   
**Prompt:**  _he’d die in Oz_   
**Word Count:** 116   
**Characters:** Mukada

Mukada gave his life to God.

Playing the devoted servant, he gave hope to the lost and misguided, the destitute and forgotten. Every day was a trial of human will and he prided himself on keeping to the straight (if not more difficult) path.

Truth be told, he rarely thought about the just rewards at the end of such a life. It was altogether too selfish a consideration for a man of the cloth to ruminate on. But during the riots, as chaos burned and the putrid stink of death and anarchy assaulted his senses, he really thought God had decided he’d die in Oz.

And all he remembered feeling was how fucking unfair it was.

 

**Title:**  The Righteous Path   
**Prompt:**  _everything was a lot simpler then_   
**Word Count:** 168   
**Characters:** Sister Pete

She loved her husband with her entire soul, but marriage brought its own set of complications along for the ride. It wasn’t a bad thing—just a fact.

They didn’t always get along and there were days, when an argument rattled the confines of her brain, when she wondered if she really knew the man she had sworn to love and honour for the rest of their lives. But then she’d see that flash of familiarity in his expression right before they made up when she knew any doubts were groundless.

Life in Oz is forever an uphill battle. Every day she walks through the gates and meets with men fated within those walls. She can’t help but look back on her married years and think everything was a lot simpler then. Here every conversation is a manipulation, a confession, a plea, and a death sentence.

She’d never admit it out loud, but it was easier when Christ—God—was more of an abstract notion in her life.

 

**Title:**  Escape   
**Prompt:**  _bottom lip_   
**Word Count: **182   
**Characters:** Cyril

Cyril backs up slowly. Sticking his bottom lip out and furrowing his brow, he watches the fight grow bigger, drawing more people in. Some look happy about the mess, even Ryan who is moving closer and closer even though he’s yelling so hard his face is turning red.

Cyril wishes he could hide. He doesn’t like when it gets so loud his brain hurts and no one’s words make any sense. When he was a little kid and people were mean he hid under the bed or in the closet; until he realized he was tough enough to fight back.

He could probably fight right now, but he’s pretty sure that would only make Ryan madder. Instead, Cyril makes his way back to his pod and curls up the bottom bunk, in the far corner, with his back against the wall and hands over his ears. He remembers a nursery rhyme and begins singing it quietly; closing his eyes and focusing on the words until his entire world becomes a sunny meadow with a young girl named Mary and her white lamb.

 

**Title:**  Payback   
**Prompt:**  _clicks into place_   
**Word Count: **162   
**Characters: **Guillaume Tarrant

Tarrant feels the weight of the gun in his hand as he raises it in broken desperation. Scared thoughts collide like bumper cars in fast-forward and ration tells him it’s now or never, there’s no turning back.

He doesn’t belong in this place. He is not a murderer or rapist, pedophile or drug dealer. Artist versus artist, and the punishment is in excess of the crime. He won’t last a week in this place and there is little sympathy in the eyes of those who should care, those who trade on words like rehabilitation, those who ignore the taunts and humiliation visited upon him.

Prison is death; the only question is will it be on his terms or theirs? In the split second before he pulls the trigger (over and over) it all clicks into place and adrenalin sets fire to his veins.

Fear is a powerful weapon used to break and destroy. It’s time they got a good look at it.

 

**Title:**  Vices   
**Prompt:**  _destructive patterns_   
**Word Count:** 100   
**Characters:** Adebesi

Remorse is not something that comes naturally to Adebisi. He takes what he wants by any means necessary. He is not a slave to his needs, he loves them, adores them, wants to suffocate in them and swallow their goodness whole.

Where others see destructive patterns, he knows only the revelation of feeling too much and wanting _too_ hard. He is enamored with the intoxication of being overwhelmed and wishes to sacrifice himself on the altar of decadence.

Taste. Suck. Thrust. Fuck.

He makes no apologies and bets only a few understand—even then, none of them truly get it.

 

**Title:**  Death Becomes Her   
**Prompt:**  _fears and guilt fall away_   
**Word Count:** 131   
**Characters:** Shirley Bellinger

For Shirley, the walk to the gallows (and how wonderfully dramatic it had all sounded at first) is far more revelatory than expected.

Initially she felt it was all much ado about nothing, a punishment for something that had to be done. Later, when Satan’s spawn grew in her belly, she knew death was her only salvation. Yet with each step, which draws her nearer the hangman’s noose, fright and panic twist her insides.

Where others might feel their fears and guilt fall away in the face of eternity, she catches a glimpse of the fires of damnation and the blank slate of nothingness.

Ceasing to exist all together is as troubling as suffering the indignity of being Satan’s whore.

Clenching her fists, a desperate scream rips free from her soul.

 


End file.
